The Story Of Us
by TheMoor18
Summary: A Modern Day Katniss x Peeta story. Told in both POV's. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

**{Katniss.}**

Dandelions are everywhere; little tufts of yellow and gentle fuzz sprouting up from the ground, one of the first signs of spring. I gently pluck one of the fuzzy ones up from the ground, blowing on it as I close my eyes and silently make a wish. The fuzz scatters, landing in a golden lock of Peeta Mellark's hair.

Without the thought or consideration of what might his reaction be I reach forward, admiring the way his hair glints in the bathing sunlight, brushing away the fuzz from my dandelion. Though, after it is gone, I let my hand linger, running down the back of his scalp, my fingers skim his neck.

He turns around, startled. His soft blue eyes look back at me, and the thought of how foolish I must look makes me blush. Me, with a dandelion stem: my colorless eyes wide and bewildered, shifting on my feet: but I could have sworn I saw a mix of joy in the mass of confusion in his eyes, as he wrinkles his eyebrows at me.

"There was something in your hair," I rush, not adding in the: _And your hair is so soft_: part in which is whispered in the back of my mind.

I flick the wad of dandelion fuzz at him, waving the stem as explanation.

"Oh," he says, unsure of what else to say.

"I know you," I say, trying to break the odd silence. "You work at that bakery that just opened up. I always have my mother stop by and a get me a dozen cheese buns after work, I eat them by the bucket full."

"I make them myself," he says, smiling.

"Maybe you should bring me some, then? I'll go broke soon if I keep buying as many as I do," I joke, even throwing in one of my rare smiles so that he sees my sarcasm and amusement, but he just nods and asks: "You want a whole dozen, or…?"

"Katniss, Katniss, Katniss!" A shrill, squeaky voice says from behind me, I whip around, smiling as Prim hurdles herself into my arms. She feels just as soft and as delicate as the Primrose my mother named her for. Her golden halo of hair has somehow become loose from the two French braids I took the time to do myself, glinting in the sunlight, such as Peeta's hair does.

Gale should be here, soon. We always walk home together. "So that no one will snatch you up," Gale always jokes, in his big-brotherly way.

"Please, if anything, Prim would be the one to watch," I said once, admiring the way she giggled and twirled on her tiptoes at the STOP sign, waiting for us because she had ran ahead.

"You really don't see it," Gale whispered, looking at me in a way that wasn't big-brotherly.

"Can I play on the swings?" Prim asks me, sticking out her lower lip in a pout. "Pretty, pretty please?"

"Alright, but just the swings," I say, watching her as she runs off.

There's only two weeks left of school until spring break, and then a month until summer vacation. I am already counting down the days that are blocking me from spending all of my days in the woods with Gale, climbing trees and swimming in the lake that we had discovered just last year. It is infested with mosquitoes and such, but if we have bug spray and keep our heads above water, it is usually fine. A little further downstream is a place where fish dwell, and we always try and catch them with our hands.

Then, there is taking Prim to swim at the local pool, since I am not exactly ready to take her in the woods with me. She's too fragile. And meeting up with Madge and sneaking glances at Peeta through the bakery window and staying up until 3 a.m. with our stomachs cramping from how much we are laughing and talking to boys from school through our fake Facebook accounts; I am obviously thrilled.

I turn back to face Peeta, who is biting his lip and averting his eyes.

"I was just joking, about the free cheese buns," I blurt. "I mean, if you wouldn't mind, it'd be really nice, but I wasn't trying to ask or anything—"

"Its fine, Katniss," he smiles.

The sun seems to enlarge, packing down on me, making me sweat beneath my jacket. I shrug it off. "Maybe you could teach me how to make them," I laugh, since the last time I tried to cook ended with a fire hydrant and a very teary Prim. "You could come over to my house. I'll buy the ingredients if you write them down."

"My mom wouldn't want me to do that. Since you're actually one of our best customers," he admits, running a hand through his hair.

Before I can reply, Gale is there. His bag is slung sloppily over his shoulder and his hair is a rustled mess, sleek and black, like mine.

"I'll see you," I tell Peeta. He seems startled, oddly, but then waves at me.

"Prim!" I say, watching her giggle like a maniac as she twirls the chains together and lets her body spin and spin.

I rarely ever get to admire her being happy. So, I allow myself this, just for a moment.


	2. Chapter 2

**{Katniss.}**

"I hate this!" Madge exclaims banging her hands into the piano keys, cringing at the sound it makes. In one swoop of her arms she has scattered all her sheet music onto the floor and is holding her head up in her hands, breathing deeply.

I bat my eyes at her from the bed. "I thought it sounded pretty," I lie. The keys were pretty, but they didn't go right together. Her voice was even prettier, but it just didn't click.

"Bull," Madge mumbles.

Sitting back up in her seat, she exhales, deeply. "I have to have this song done Friday, and I can't even come up with a melody. I keep changing it and the words seem dull and my throat hurts and—"

"You need to calm down. Maybe you should take a nap," I say, taking the time to define the blackness beneath her eyes, rimming the heavy bags that sink into her face. Her hair is tied in a loose knot at the base of her skull and she keeps blinking and then drifting away slightly, only to snap back into focus and force herself to continue playing.

"But your mom was going to take us to the movies," she says, yawning, with her tongue poking out of her mouth, like a cat.

"I can just have her rent one for us to watch when you wake up." I shrug, pretending it doesn't matter. Madge comes over every weekend and either spends the night or stays over until my mother decides to go to sleep, although, she always tries to stay up a little late so Madge and I can squeal about how cute Finnick Odair's profile picture is, or rant about how jealous we are of Annie Cresta.

"Oh, and don't hit my piano," I joke, running my hand down the keys, gently. The last key hums and I let my hands place themselves along the white and black pieces, pressing certain fingers down so that it makes a desirable sound, until I am running my hands up and down the keys, making sounds and notes and music.

"Why can't I play like you?" Madge says into my pillow, cramming her hands against her ears so that she doesn't have to listen to me play.

"You play better," I say. "And I'm not trying to write my own song like you, anyone can play a song that they've heard on the radio about a thousand times." I say, thrumming another melody while humming to Miley Cyrus' Wrecking Ball.

Madge is either doing a good job at ignoring me or sleeping. I find the first one to be true when she says: "I saw you talking to Peeta."

"So?" I ask, recoiling as my hands slip at the thought of how soft his hair was, messing up the entire chorus. I still play on.

"I've never seen you blush that much," Madge exaggerates, grinning as she tosses over in the bed so that she can see my beet red face. "You're blushing at just the thought of him!" she exclaims. "That's adorable!"

"Shut up," I say, making sure I focus on the keys and which ones I need to hit.

"He's cute, Katniss. You should go for it," Madge says, suddenly hopping up from the bed and snatching my laptop off my desk.

"What are you doing?" I say, stand up from the piano seat, shutting the protective case over my keys, and I click off the light that allows me to see my sheet music. Madge is sitting cross-legged in my bed, typing away vigorously. "Why aren't you friends on Facebook?" she asks.

"Cause today was like the first day we've even held a simple gaze," I say, thinking of all the times I've looked up in class or in the hallway, just to see him quickly flit his eyes to the floor or a spot on the wall above my head.

"He answers requests quick," Madge says, "Your friends now: you're welcome." She adds shoving the laptop at me just in time for me to see the words lit up in blue: _You and Peeta Mellark are now friends._


End file.
